about face
was altruism, compassion, or alarm at his patients' response to their condition or a bit of each does not matter. All I know is that when he
took two syringes, sucked up the contents of two vials, wiped the affected
areas with antiseptic, and injected, it wasn't New-Fill he was injecting
into my face but quality of life.
I had expected one injection on either side, filling up the face like
a balloon. Instead it was twelve pricks on either side, each focused on
a sunken area. It hurt a little but I would have done anything to put
it behind me. And I did. Six visits.
It took three months to present an acceptable face to the world, anxiously
watching slowly as the crevices, hollows and bones disappeared under a
layer of collagen. My old anonymity returned. I felt invisible again and
unnoticed, like a bible at an orgy. Perky, bitchy and camp. Or as one
friend said - 'happy again'.
My quality of life.
page 3 of 3
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